A Beam of accusation enters
this darkened place as I kneel,
always hopeful, always cold,
frozen, trapped here,
waiting for salvation to bring me home.
Accusing forms wrought in shadows of cowardice loom as
dust of terror fills my lungs,
forming an image in my mind,
infiltrating, reaving my exposed soul.
A Realisation of my lifestyle dawns upon my face.
I raise my head, now defying scream, truth
this callous reality shall not break me.
Ian V. Seymour ©2008